Hecate
by Vicky Voltaire
Summary: Even homicidal sociopaths need love too.


Title: Hecate

Summary: Even sociopaths need love too.

Author's note: Real life is very constraining for me right now. I know I have been bad. I am actually in the middle of working on ANOTHER fic set in this 'verse but it is on the back burner and I had this huge ITCH to write this one. Better later than never, I suppose.

Apparently, there is no more Disney/Jungle Book/Lion King Crossover section anymore so I am putting it here. I hope that isn't a problem. The primary character is Scar. Warning, the content of the series is mature.

* * *

><p>The reminders were everywhere.<p>

They were like those annoying pop up ads of old from a few years ago or those videos that played randomly while she tried to read an article online in peace.

The worst were the sales girls who were trying to separate her from her money while trying to sell her a fragrance or a facial.

The pink and red hues etched into her periphery.

Cherubs in wings aimed arrows indiscriminantly.

Merchants offered her a discount to try their finest chocolate, making the offer sound even more tempting my emphasizing that their latest batch was from Belgium.

This is one of those times.

They were like chronic ulcers.

The offers off a designer jewel encrusted bracelet.

Tony's was promoting a fancy dinner for two.

She despised being reminded.

She hissed bitterly, scaring a couple into parting and giving her space.

It was Valentine's Day.

It did not stop when she came home. After a particularly taxing day at the office, Scar decided that it was best to disassociate herself from the outside world and to indulge herself with a bubble bath and a glass of Bollinger. In addition to her aide forgetting to add her favorite Irish cream to her coffee and one of the presenters at the meeting flubbing their reports, she knew that she earned this rest. Anyone else would accuse her of being antisocial. She much preferred her privacy than to be around idiots for most of the day. Like an exfoliating scrub, she had to cleanse herself of the stress that had accumulated throughout her day.

The bath was set. It looked like an inviting pool or hot spring.

Lavender. Rose candles. Takkasim. The perfect therapeutic treatment.

Just as she was about to set foot into the tub, someone rang.

Knowing the habits of her contact list, she took the risk to see who was calling at this time. She had a few guesses.

Zira asking for feedback with a report.

Zazu seeking to annoy her.

Mufasa wanting a favor.

Shere Khan needing a shag.

She wanted to see who it was before confirming her presence at home.

Her acidic green eyes tensed and her lips narrowed. The bath as a distant memory now.

It was that fat headed idiot.

Knowing her brother, she knew that he would call again in about half an hour. He never took her 'disappearing acts' seriously anyway.

"Yes?" she hissed.

"I need a favor," said a gruff male voice on the other side.

"Can this wait?" she said bitterly. The tub was set, the lights dimmed. The silent spring beckoned to relax her stressed muscles and anxious mind.

"I am afraid not. This was a last minute detail and I very much seek your full cooperation." Mufasa said roughly.

"If this is about the meeting the other day, I already told you what I think!" she said darkly.

"I am not blind. I watched as you and Mr. Laufeyson exchange ideas like two peas and a pod."

"You called him mercurial. I think he is very…resourceful. If only his brother let him speak. He reminds me so much of someone I know," she said with a dim sneer.

Mufasa huffed.

"I am not making a social call. Sarabi's mother is sick and cannot take Simba. Can you watch him for a night?"

Another pin. Another reminder of what she didn't have: freedom.

"Ask Sarafina or one of your whores! I have an engagement."

"That is a first."

"Do not test me, brother. I am not your play thing."

"Do this favor for me. For your nephew. As a matter of fact, he chose you."

"How do I know this is not another way for you to guilt trip me, brother?" Scar countered, hand on her hip. Her robe hung snugly but not too tightly around her.

"He specifically asked for you."

Scar believed that it was because she was the only one that let him play those games on his tablet and eat strawberry cheesecake ice cream at ten thirty at night. She allowed it only because that was the only way he kept quiet.

"Make sure that your spawn doesn't bring any small toys," she hissed angrily.

"Duly noted."

Simba arrived with his sleeping bag, an assortment of toys, digital devices and a blanket. She made it very clear that she did not want to hear of him breaking anything and that he was not going to watch any of those animated programs at this hours, _especially_ the one with the talking sponge and starfish with swimming trunks.

Simba behaved for the most part. He ate his dinner and he did his homework. She sternly warned him about keeping his toys in his case lest he wanted her to fall again. She once tripped over one his toy cars. It was one of those superhero toys she detested. She never failed to remind him that that was why she had a bad back. Simba acquiesced nervously.

"Do you have any Breyer's Cookies and Cream?" Simba asked.

"No, I am afraid not. Your father warned you that he didn't want you eating sweets late at night."

Truth be told, she would usually let him have his indulgences not out of love but to either keep him quiet or to manipulate him. Tonight, it was out of spite.

"Awww, well, do you have any crickets or a worm? We went on vacation and I tried that. It was yummy." Simba beamed.

"Simba, why on earth would I eat that?"

"Hey, they told me that it was healthy and that it has protein. I thought you maybe you liked it because you are always watching your figure."

"There is a difference between exotic cuisine and a disgusting habit." She said bitterly. Simba kept quiet and turned his attention to his tablet. Out of courtesy for his aunt, his put the volume down.

After her soothing but quick bath, she went to check on him again. He was watching Boom Tube. She never particularly cared for what was fashionable but she decided to take a quick glance at what piqued Simba's interest. The usual boy's interests: sports, cars and this new popular folk rock group called Robin Hood and the Merry Men that all the young people were crazy about. She only knew about them because John would never stop ranting about the lead singer. At the Hellfire Club, John angrily claimed that their musical influences about 'progressiveness' and 'occupation' was naïve and hypocritical. How could they complain about big name companies being exploitive when they themselves used the very same technology from said companies to get their message across? For a man who still had very infantilized habits, even Scar had to agree that a broken clock was right twice a day.

She had heard about a secret appearance that was to occur at Sid's Toy Shoppe.

Scar sneered. Electric guitars and the fiddle do not make harmonious music.

Simba was watching a live version of their hit single 'Oo-de-lally' when Scar received a text message.

_Wear something formal and fitting. I will be there in approximately forty minutes_

The message was from Shere Khan. Scar looked at the clock. It was just a little after ten. The surprise was a rather pleasant one but there was one little problem.

_I am flattered but I am playing den mother tonight _she wrote back.

_What a pity-for him_

Scar smiled.

_-What are you wearing?_

_My pride and Lancome. _

_-Give the lad one of Rafiki's roots that you use for those sleepless nights. I am told Facilier has a new herb that works wonders. _

_That won't be necessary. He is already asleep. _

Scar noted that Simba was slumped over on the couch.

_Set your best china and silverware. Make sure he is fast asleep. I am not playing Santa Claus tonight. _

She carried him as if he was a tiny cub. She laid him down to rest one of the small guest beds that she had.

She had only less than half an hour to be prepared for his arrival. A light pink halter gown, some killer heels, and a moonstone necklace. She always preferred to keep it minimal and classy. She was never one for trends, even at a young age. She preferred an elegant and timeless look. Something that said bold and sophisticated without going overboard. Trends were for the insecure and attention seeking. One could make a strong statement without being too crass.

She was never fond of Cruella's obsession with fur and feathers. Even when she resembled a second rate casino revue, Scar never said anything. If Cruella wished to look like the offspring of a flamingo and peacock that was her prerogative.

Georgette's over use of mauve and aqua toned mascara was monotonous at best. Cross dressers were more subtle than she was.

He arrived.

It was 10:47 PM.

"What a marvelous surprise!" she beamed.

"You act as if this was unexpected," Shere Khan said warmly.

"You are a busy man," she replied, letting him in.

"Never for you," he kissed her.

She noted that he was carrying something.

"Is this really necessary?" she smiled.

"I don't do restaurants. I prefer something a lot more intimate," he said boldly. "I find Tony's fare too pedestrian and I couldn't resist getting territorial if I saw the owner of Lumiere's making eyes at you."

He began to set the table and invited her to sit.

"My, you most certainly put a lot of thought into this," she noted.

He wasn't too fancy. He went for cuisine traditionelle. Fromage blanc tart, croissants, two servings of saumon fume. For desserts, it was a St Martin crepe for two.

"My keynote speeches require less meticulous precision and preparation. It is a special occasion after all," he said before popping the cork of a bottle of Moet and Chandon.

They did not speak much. They mainly played catch up on their affairs since their last dinner date. Each acknowledged the other with a small nod or mumble.

Shere Khan mentioned how his assistant Bagheera was staying late and how motherhood was taking a toll on her. Scar registered this new bit of information with a subtle shift of her head. A sharp twinge of arrogance framed her face.

Scar mentioned a strange woman in a two tone red and black outfit soliciting gifts outside the offices today. She claimed to have had a background in psychology but she wouldn't have it and she kicked the woman out.

At last, it was midnight.

"Don't I get a midnight kiss?" Shere Khan purred.

"Nice try, but the last time that happened, Simba asked me why you were hurting me," Scar sighed.

"You are a brilliant woman. I am sure you gave the boy a believable excuse." He sniffed her hair.

"I told him you were pressing your knee against my hip. I suppose in a matter, that was true," Scar cooed.

Soft music played in the background.

_My empty nights you fill them up  
>I don't know when to say I've had enough<br>Intoxicate me with every kiss you've got  
>I know I must be<em>

_I must be Under The Influence_  
><em>of a four-letter word on my mind<em>  
><em>You got me Under The Influence<em>  
><em>and I'll do anything anytime<em>

"Your presence is enough," Shere Khan pressed himself against her back. She purred. His hands wandered, savoring ever bit of flesh and curve he could grasp. She did not stop him.

"I am not one for giving presents I am afraid. I must get to know my acquaintances better if I am to indulge them."

"The operative word being acquaintance. Change it to 'victim' and the description would be more fitting." He then presented her with a small gift. It was a box. It had a small bow. Scar was intrigued. Shere Khan was certainly creative with his gifts. Last year, it was a gold chain with a red stone in it. The same year, he gave her a small daily calendar. The theme was based from an Indian love text. Khan's sense of humor was that whatever the day was, they should experiment. It was no different than learning a new word in a foreign language. It was either that or learning to speak German.

Shere Khan admitted that he would have loved to have heard her say 'Seid Bereit' during their private moments.

Scar pulled out the gift. It was a necklace but it wasn't just an ordinary trinket. The chain was made out of silver. The pendant was the most surprising of all. It was an elephant but on closer inspection, one could see that it was an elephant's skull but that was not it. It encased a green object. It was a stone and it was pale green. Held up to the light, it looked as if it was radiating. Away from the sun and it still had its glow.

Scar held the ornament in her hand. The emerald greenish glow radiated in her palm.

He was not finished. He presented her with something else. It was a bottle of J'adore.

How fitting.

"Did your new playmate reject your advances and dinner invitation?" Scar said in a piqued manner.

"As a matter of fact, she told me about her dinner plans. Her husband is a cook, apparently. I found him to be a complete oaf."

Scar recalled a dinner Mufasa had hosted. It was a gala for children during Christmas. She remembered seeing Bagheera with her husband, Baloo. How interesting that an exotic and well educated individual such as herself would shack up with someone who was more sloth than ambitious. They had adopted a little boy together. Mowgli.

"In her country, if a woman does not marry by a certain age, she is considered spoiled milk. Perhaps her options were limited," the dark haired woman said snidely.

"I am told he invited her to the concert hall. He had connections with the road manager."

"Is that terrible act that the children croak about?" Shere Khan presented her with an image.

It was an advertisement. It was for the toy store at the Gardens.

"They are premiering the new action figure of that Robin Hood character."

Of course, Simba's favorite. He was to make an appearance to promote the toy. It was still hush-hush but because of her connections, Scar had heard it through the grapevine.

"I was merely going to treat the lad for a day. Take him off your hands." Shere Khan's interest in his surrogate nephew was to groom him. Business was cutthroat and while he respected Mufasa's business model, that was not the way the law of the corporate jungle worked. Simba would owe him his eternal gratitude when the time was right.

"That won't be necessary." The wheels in her head were circulating.

She had an appointment that day at Georgette's for an exfoliation and facial. It was across the street. There will be traffic during that time. Simba would not be able to resist.

He had no idea what would be waiting in store for him.

She was going to tell him that she had a marvelous surprise for him.

"I do hope that I will not be at the receiving end of whatever transgressions you are planning," Shere Khan said coyly.

"Not in the manner that you are thinking. A gift such as this cannot go unrewarded." Scar smiled. The planets were aligning. The cosmos were in her favor. She kneeled down.

"You are an enigma. On one hand, you are an ice queen. And yet, should anyone cross you, they will feel your wrath which supercedes the heat of a thousand suns."

She looked at him like the cat that just ate the canary.

"I will take that as an assessment and not a critique," she slithered.

"Did I say it was?" her companion said softly. "You are a complex one."

"You have no idea. For this, you have earned the Lotus Blossom," she smiled devilishly.

_Lyrics are from "Under the influence" by Vanity. Copyright 1986_.


End file.
